As she made her way up the stairs, MiKyung immediately pulled out her ring of keys and sniffed the air.  The scent of burnt ramen hung in the air, but it wasn’t as prevalent as the smell of dark roast coffee beans.  Making the calculations in her head, the female editor took the key labeled “#65” and continued her rampage up the staircase.  Without a moment’s hesitance, she inserted the key and barged into the apartment.

“Park ChanYeol, give me the real manuscript this instant!”

She was met with silence, but that didn’t stop MiKyung.  Shutting and locking the door behind her, the female scanned the area for any sign of the impish author.  On the television screen in the living room, MiKyung spotted a yellow sticky note and tentatively made her way toward it. Bending over slightly, she read the note, which had ChanYeol’s unmistakable chicken scratch for handwriting on it: “Went out to buy more milk!”  Unfazed, MiKyung stood up straight and looked around, knowing full well that ChanYeol never went outside to buy anything between the hours of one and four in the afternoon.

Narrowing her eyes, MiKyung furtively advanced to the hallway and opened the door to the guest bedroom where ChanYeol put his more precious items.  In the far corner of the room, she spotted the familiar fleece blanket and took a step inside.  Just as she did so, the door of the hallway closet soundlessly inched open, and a head of messy hair peeked outside.  As carefully as possible, ChanYeol sneaked out of the closet, making sure his long limbs didn’t hit anything and reveal his location.  Once he got his body fully out of the closet, he tried to sneak away, but MiKyung turned her head over her shoulder, an ominous look in her eyes.

ChanYeol froze in his position, still awkwardly crouched, and could only stare back at his clearly furious editor.  His face paled a little at the sight: only MiKyung’s head was moving—at an agonizingly slow pace—and her straight bangs hung just above her eyes.  For a moment, ChanYeol thought his apartment was haunted by a ghost that had merely taken the image of MiKyung.  But when the female looked into his eyes, he knew this was not a nightmare.

It was worse.

----------
 

MiKyung dragged her feet along the cement outside her apartment, her purse hanging precariously over her shoulder. Her eyes were half-shut, and her head tilted slightly to the right as she stopped in front of her own apartment at 9:15 p.m.  Lazily, she punched in the pass code to the digital lock on her door and opened the door after hearing the familiar beeping noise.  After setting her purse down in the tiny foyer, she slipped off her shoes and shuffled across the floor to the kitchen to get a glass of water.  She drank in deep gulps, then set the glass on the counter and grabbed a tiny cardboard box from the corner of the dining table.  Shoving her shoes back onto her feet, MiKyung stepped outside her apartment, shut the door behind her, and leaned against it. 

Gingerly, the tired female tugged on the elastic holding her hair in a ponytail and let her long hair fall over her thin shoulders.  She ran a hand through her bangs and sighed softly, her warm breath forming small puffs in the cold air.  From the cardboard package in her hand, MiKyung pulled out a cigarette and placed it between her lips.  She took out her Zippo lighter from her jeans pocket and put it up to the cigarette, cupping a hand around the end to prevent the wind from extinguishing the flame.  With the cigarette lit, she deftly shut the metal object and put it back into her pocket.

She took a long drag of the cigarette, the familiar warm feeling inundating her being. With two fingers, MiKyung pulled the cigarette away and exhaled slowly, watching the wisps of smoke dance in the air before her.  The day’s events flashed in her head but disappeared soon after as she took another drag.

The night was fairly quiet, save for the sound of the ubiquitous traffic—the incessant honking of horns, a tire screech here and there…  MiKyung gazed out at the bright scintillations of the city lights, various colors blurring together.  From her spot on the third floor of the apartment complex, she could make out a few people in the distance walking along the sidewalks. A group of businessmen stood around a bus stop, impatient to return to their homes.  Someone in a panda costume was dancing outside a storefront to a popular song blasting from a boombox.  MiKyung laughed a little when she saw a delivery boy on a scooter weaving through the traffic, inducing a melody of honking horns from nearby automobiles.

She was in the middle of another drag when her ears detected footsteps.  After quickly exhaling, MiKyung glanced to her left and saw her neighbor—a tall, thin man who was four years older than her—making his way to his apartment. The man met gazes with MiKyung, but the latter broke it to look back out at the city.

The two had never been on friendly terms, but they weren’t on bad terms either.  Since MiKyung had moved into her apartment, neither of them made any advancement to get to know the other.  She actually didn’t know anything about the man except for his appearance, age, and name: Yoo HaMin.  The fact that they had the same last name but bore no relation to each other whatsoever interested MiKyung for only about two minutes.  They simply lived in mutual respect for one another.  They never had the television volume up too high; they didn’t bring any obnoxious friends over; they didn’t stumble home, wasted from alcohol.  So it came as a surprise to MiKyung when her neighbor asked if she had a cigarette.

After a glance at the man (his head was slightly tilted and a small smile graced his face), MiKyung took the cardboard box out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him.  Mumbling a small “thanks,” HaMin took out one cigarette and returned the package to her.  He pulled out his own lighter from the pocket of his thick jacket and lit the cigarette in his mouth.  Inhaling silently, HaMin leaned against the wall beside MiKyung and joined her in observing the city life.  After releasing the smoke into the air away from MiKyung, the man curiously looked at his neighbor and commented, “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Same here,” MiKyung replied, taking a short drag.  After the younger exhaled, HaMin asked how long she’d been smoking.  “One year,” was her response.  When MiKyung asked the same question, HaMin chuckled and answered,

“Since I was eighteen, so…six years.”

Surprised, MiKyung looked at her neighbor and realized he was telling the truth by the way he was smiling.   She looked away to shake the ash off her cigarette, then dropped it in front of her, using her right foot to stomp out what flame remained.  When his neighbor just stood there with her hands clasped behind her back, HaMin cocked an eyebrow and asked, “You’re not going for another one?”

Looking at the older male, MiKyung answered, “I limit myself to one a day.”

HaMin looked at the younger incredulously and started laughing.  “You actually have the willpower to do that?” he asked good-naturedly, his eyes still in the shape of long crescents.  MiKyung nodded simply as if it was a natural answer, and HaMin chuckled lightly.  After one last drag, HaMin put out his own cigarette; on his exhale, the man smiled to himself, shaking his head a little.

Up to that moment, HaMin believed his younger neighbor to be the typical straightforward, nothing-but-business kind of woman, leaving for work at 7:30 in the morning and returning at 9:00 in the evening.  Sure, she was still a collected person, but HaMin realized there was much more innocence within.  He thought back to his own days of youth but couldn’t remember being able to limit himself to one cigarette a day.  He wasn’t crazy about smoking to where he emptied a package a day, but it was difficult for him to stop.  He didn’t really want to destroy his body, but it was a form of escape.

“I like you,” HaMin stated casually, putting his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.  MiKyung glanced at her neighbor and realized for the first time how attractive he was.  His long eyes were almost feline, and his nose was impeccably sharp, just like his jaw line.  His face was virtually free of any imperfections, and his complexion was light and even.  And while HaMin was attractive, he wasn’t really MiKyung’s type.

At that moment, she wondered what, exactly, her “type” was, but she brushed the thought away and said in response, “You’re not so bad yourself.”  A few moments of silence passed between the two neighbors before MiKyung said, “Well, I guess I should go to sleep now.  I have work tomorrow.”

“Good night then, MiKyung-sshi,” HaMin replied, smiling warmly.  The younger neighbor nodded and bid him the same, retreating into her own apartment.  Today had been a long day, and MiKyung couldn’t wait to fall into bed.  Just as she sank into her plain white comforter, though, her cell phone rang.  Begrudgingly picking up the object from her bedside drawer, MiKyung answered the call without looking at the caller ID—she was just too tired.

“Hello?” the exhausted female mumbled with her eyes still closed.

“MiKyung-ah?”

The editor drew her lips into a thin line before muttering into the mouthpiece, “Park ChanYeol, I don’t know how you got my number, but I will find out tomorrow.  Don’t call me again.”

“But MiKyung-ah, I lost my—”

“No.  Go to sleep.”

Leaving it at that, MiKyung ended the call and put the device back on the drawer, pulling the comforter closer to her.  Tonight, she just wanted to sleep.

First, I want to say that I do not advocate smoking nor do I do it.  Just writing about smoking made me cough.  >.<  A lot of research went into writing this chapter, haha.  I'm a nerd like that.

For those who'd like to know, Yu HaMin is an ulzzang.  And yes, he smokes in real life.  He was the first ulzzang I found out about.

MiKyung's neighbor was actually supposed to be Kris, but I changed it at the last minute.  Also, I apologize for the lack of lulz in this chapter.  I just wanted to show the difference in MiKyung's character when ChanYeol isn't around.  If you noticed that, then I am happy!  Also, if you see any spelling/grammatical errors, don't be afraid to tell me.  I'm really nitpicky about those.  Last also!  Do you guys read the Story Feed?  I want to know if it's an effective way of getting news around concerning my stories.. ^^

I gained four subscribers!  So today's yummy, tasty cookies go to:

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You guys, I really can't describe how happy I am to know that there are actually people wiling to read what I write.  Others celebrate when they reach 50, 100, or even 500 subscribers.  But you guys, each one of you is precious to me.  WHY AM I SO SAPPY.  I love you all. (/ ; ㅂ;)/ ♥